When your kid loses his or her first tooth, it's one of those magical/horrifying moments in your parental life (magical in the sense that your baby is growing up, and horrifying for essentially the same reason). For Layla, the loss of her first tooth coincided neatly with a Tinkerbell fascination, so by the time the last root on that tiny little pearl of a tooth finally gave, she was well-informed of all things Tooth Fairy and was awaiting the arrival of a magical winged friend with the same level of sweaty, giddy anticipation that I usually reserve for awards shows hosted by Tina Fey. In other words, to say she was excited would be a massive understatement.
Wanting to make the most of this milestone moment, we really did up the whole tooth fairy charade. Not only did Layla get $10 for her first tooth (an absolutely ridiculous amount I know, despite all of the cost of living/tooth fairy inflation pseudo-rationalizations that I tried to make for myself at the time), she also got a small, gift-wrapped present, and a personalized note from the Tooth Fairy herself (that was typed because Layla is smart enough to recognize our handwriting) praising her for taking good care of her teeth and for being an all-around amazing kid. The whole thing was topped off with a generous sprinkling of glitter on her bedside table, to prove that not only had the the tooth fairy graced Layla with her presence, but that she was every bit as sparkly and wonderful as Disney movies and a child's overactive imagination (mine) had led her to believe.
And then, because life is great at throwing curve balls when you never see it coming, Layla proceeded to lose nine teeth. In six months. Suddenly I realized that I needed to rethink my math (no more inflation excuses) and to rethink this whole Tooth Fairy operation. And fast.
Now before you think that I'm just some cantankerous jerk who hates using the power of creativity and imagination (and presents) to make their child deliriously happy, hear me out:
I'll begin with some basic math: The average six to seven-year old has about twenty teeth. Twenty teeth times ten dollars a tooth comes out to $200. It's not that I'm cheap or anything, but at that rate, the Tooth Fairy was bound to end bankrupt and living under a bridge, hooked on Pixie Dust (pun intended and relished). Why this math didn't occur to me when I was deciding that it was a good idea to shell out ten bucks for her first tooth, I will never know. By by the time I figured it out, I consoled my inner-Scrooge McDuck by assuring myself that I had some time before the next tooth fell out to back-pedal a bit on the whole Tooth Fairy deal, giving us room to subtly scale back on the grandness of the whole thing.But of course, this didn't end up working out the way that I had planned (see above, re: massive number of teeth lost in record time). In fact, I scaled back so fast that I actually completely forgot to put anything out one night around tooth #7, sending Josh in to Layla's room at 6 AM under the guise of delivering an early good morning kiss as I tossed a few dollars on her night stand, praying she wouldn't notice (she didn't).
In fact, I slowly began to realize that Layla wasn't noticing any of the scaling back that we were doing. She was happily collecting her dollars, more concerned about the Build-A-Bear she was saving up for than the telltale, glitter-filled signs of the Tooth Fairy. Best of all, when all was said and done, the part she liked best was the sound and feeling of pulling her own teeth out (shudder). She said nothing about presents, or lack thereof.
Honestly, sometimes I don't think we give kids enough credit. Deep down, kids are wonderfully simple creatures who are happy with next to nothing (which is why every kid since the dawn of time has always had more fun with the boxes that their Christmas presents came than the actual presents). But because we want our kids to have a great life and also need interesting things to post on Facebook (I'm convinced that Pinterest exists precisely for these reasons), we can get to a point where we feel the need to constantly to overdue every little thing (I know I can). But there's a thin line (a very, very thin line) between making a fun, creative gesture that your kid will have fond memories of forever and setting your kids on the path to spoiled douche-baggery because they have no concept of managing their expectations.
Okay, it's entirely possible that I am thinking way too much into this way too soon. You should make a production out of everything if it's what you really want to do, but we should remember that kids don't necessarily require extravagance to be happy.
If all else fails, just give 'em an empty box if you don't believe me. You will rock their world.
